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Rated: · Poetry · Personal · #1227331
Free verse about my personal struggle with insomia
Late at night

Late when I should be sleeping my old friends come to call.
They know their respective places, they stand just so.
Desire, fear, sorrow, regret, longing, hatred, lust,
they march through the night proudly displaying
their collections made of my own dark thoughts.
If it were light they would not be so bold
and I would walk the day with the living but
here in the night they have free reign.
I know well from long, dreary battles past
that it is no good trying to defeat them.
This is their realm and they know its
tortured landscape better than I.
The best I can hope for is to flee
from one to another until sleep
takes me or the sullen dawn
sends them to their  domain.
It’s world of frightful things
but those do not worry me.
I have friends and family
to help me face them.
The waking world
holds no torment.
The unrelenting
demons of
the night
do.
© Copyright 2007 Dave Gordon (airlieduo at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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